


Beatings, Bullet, Bites, & Barbed wire

by Dash



Series: Recoveries [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e16 Shadow, Episode: s03e03 Bad Day at Black Rock, Episode: s03e07 Fresh Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dash/pseuds/Dash
Summary: Sam and Dean deal with the aftermaths of their various minor and not so minor injuries while hunting. A series of missing scenes from Seasons 1 & 3.
Series: Recoveries [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918603
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Beatings

**Author's Note:**

> Note: While an OC (Dr. Susan Gray) is mentioned in two of the three stories, each story is really more about Dean and Sam, their relationship, and how they deal with the realities of their sometimes dangerous and painful jobs. 
> 
> As a quick OC summary … Susan Gray is a physician in Franklin, Tennessee and became acquainted with the Hunter Community after the death of her daughters and husband at the hands of a werewolf in 1981. She serves as an official, unofficial doctor and medical liaison for the hunter community around the US. 
> 
> For Dr. Susan Gray’s full history, please see the first story in this series. Her back story is the first small part of that story.

Beatings - 1.16 Shadow

Quickly navigating the Impala through the dark streets of Chicago until they hit an interstate, Dean paused for a second, glancing at his brother. “West it is, I guess,” he said, reading the directional signs. 

Sam nodded, “Yeah and then we need to find a hotel and take a look at these wounds.”

Dean glanced over him at him, the temporary light from a passing truck briefly illuminating the slashes on his brother’s face and blood still oozing down. “For sure,” he confirmed. Then, added with a smile, “You better not be getting blood on the seats, dude.”

He laughed, shaking his head gingerly before gasping softly at the movement. Gritting his teeth, he eyed his brother’s bleeding chest and forehead before saying, “No room to talk, Dean. We both are ruining the leather.” Watching his brother drive for a moment, he said, “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” 

Shifting uncomfortably in the seat and avoiding putting any pressure on his right shoulder, he said, “I don’t know, I think just badly sliced up. It’s not dislocated, at least, and I can move it well enough.”

Sam sighed, nodding, “We’ll take well enough right now.” Carefully leaning forward, he opened the glovebox and pulled out a bunch of napkins left over from some lunch several states ago. Pulling out three, he folded them up and passed them over, nodding toward his brother’s still bleeding head. “See if you can at least keep the blood out of your eyes.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking the napkins and pressing them against the cut and wincing. “Nasty sons of bitches,” he muttered after a moment. Glancing over he said, “Dad looked good though …”

Sam nodded carefully. “Yeah, he did.” Swallowing, he added quietly, “It was good to see him.”

Dean smiled slightly, “Yeah, it was.” Nodding to himself, remembering the feeling of relief at the sight of their father standing at the window alive and whole, he asked quietly, “I wonder where he’s been?” Then, glancing at his brother, said, “He knew about Jess, I wonder what else he knows about? I’ve left him a few messages …” His voice trailed off as he pushed aside a brief flare of anger when he thought about the unreturned and unacknowledged messages he had left for their father over the past months.

Shrugging carefully, Sam said softly, “I’ve called him a few times too but never heard back.” Glancing over, he met his brother’s eyes before shrugging again. “It’s fine though, I didn’t really expect … just …”

“I know,” Dean said quickly, cutting him off with a dismissive snort. “Would have been nice.”

“Yeah.”

Ignoring the looks from the desk clerk, Dean quickly grabbed the hotel key and gingerly walked back to the car. He had cleaned most of the blood off his face with Sam’s help, the last of the napkins, and a mostly clean bandana. He was at least more presentable than his brother whose slashed face was still seeping blood through the bandages they had applied in a truck stop bathroom not far outside of Chicago two hours earlier. Pulling the car closer to their rooms at the end of the single story building, he took a deep breath and called upon his seriously depleted reserves to keep moving.

Sam got out of the car and carefully pulled his duffle bag and his brother’s bag from the trunk. “Can you manage the emergency bag?” he asked, eying how carefully the other man was walking. “If not, just open the door and I’ll get the bag in a second.”

“I got it,” Dean huffed and bit back a small groan as he lifted the small bag out of the backseat where they had tossed it after the truck stop. Following his brother inside the small room, he put the bag on the table and closed his eyes for a second. “Have a seat and let’s look at that face,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the chairs. “You’re … oozing still.”

He made a face and headed into the bathroom and the mirror. Carefully peeling the bandages half off, the sight of his slashed face made him feel slightly sick. Multiple cuts on his chest, arms, and back ached as well but at least those were mostly hidden.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Dean said, sticking his head into the bathroom. Stepping in and sliding past his brother, he closed the toilet lid and nodded toward it. “I’ll bring everything in here, it’ll be easier with the sink.”

Sam shook his head, gingerly putting the bandages back on, “No, let’s look at your shoulder first. We’ve already at least sort of cleaned my face but haven’t looked at your back and shoulder at all.” When the other man shook his head, he frowned, motioning toward his face, “Yeah, Dean, deal. Your back first and then, if we’re both still standing, we’ll look at this again.” 

Studying his brother for a second, he reluctantly nodded, “Yeah, sure, whatever, man.”

“Jacket and shirt off and have a seat,” he said, bumping against him gently. Flipping on the water in the sink to get it heated up, he headed back into the main room for their medical kit. 

Gingerly shrugging off his jacket and then top shirt, wincing and hissing as the material pulled away from the cuts, he tried not to think too much about the damage done. 

“Careful,” Sam said softly, coming back into the bathroom and quickly putting the bag on the counter before turning his attention to his brother. “Sit,” he said, nodding to the closed toilet lid. “Let’s just cut the t-shirt off, man. It’s ruined anyway…”

Dean nodded slowly, grateful to stop struggling to pull the shirt off over his head. “Such a shame, it was a favorite,” he said, shaking his head.

Sam snorted, pulling the scissors out of the bag. “It was from Wal-Mart, dude, and came in a pack of three.” Cutting the cotton free, he added with a smile, “You’ve got two more exactly like it in your bag and if not, I’ll buy you some more, my treat.”

“Awww, Sammy, you care!” he said, laughing and then hissing, his breath catching as the other man peeled the cotton away from the skin and reopening the gashes. 

Stepping back, Sam shook his head, “These look as bad as my face.” He grabbed a wash rag and began to slowly clean the skin with warm water and soap, blocking out the little hisses and winces from his brother. “Sorry,” he said several times when he hit a particularly tender or deep area and Dean involuntarily flinched away from him. “I think some of these need stiches,” he said quietly 15 minutes later.

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath, “Just do it, man.”

“OK,” he said softly, nodding. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

He laughed, “But neat. Chicks might dig scars but I don’t want to end up looking like Frankenstein either.”

Sam laughed, “Good thing Dad taught us how to sew. I aced Home Ec because of that.” Threading the needle and pouring alcohol over it, he took a deep breath and said, “OK. Just hold still for me…”

Helping Dean undress and into bed 30 minutes later, Sam ignored the twinges in his back and shoulders from the constant tension of applying the stiches. In the end, he had put in over 30 stiches across the seven deep lacerations on his brother’s back and shoulder. Even that had left some wounds still opened and simply bandaged. “Go to sleep,” he said quietly, helping the other man settle onto his uninjured side and jamming a pillow against his back to prevent him from rolling over.

“Give me like 10 minutes and I’ll help with your face,” he said quietly. Trying not to shiver, he winced as his muscles tensed in the cool hotel room. “10 minutes, tops,” he repeated.

Pulling a blanket up and over him, Sam smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of it; it’s basically stopped bleeding now.” The lie came out easily but he was pretty sure the combination of pain killers and alcohol had finally kicked in and his brother was quickly drifting to sleep. Turning the weak heater on high, he moved back into the bathroom and quickly cleaned up the mess. The bloody bandages went into a plastic bag they’d toss in the main dumpster as soon as possible and he cleaned the needle again. Stitching up Dean was bad enough, there was no way he had the energy to face doing that to himself, despite their father’s training. Gritting his teeth a few minutes later, he slowly peeled off the blood soaked bandages and began to carefully clean and rebandage the wounds.

OOooOOooOO

The smell of coffee slowly pulled him out of a restless sleep and he blinked in the dim light of the room. Sun was coming through the curtains and the heater had finally taken the chill out of the room. Carefully sitting up and trying not to wince as the bruises on his chest made themselves known, Sam smiled slightly at the sight of his brother sitting at the small table. “What time is it?” he asked hoarsely. Coughing a couple of times to clear his throat, he wrapped an arm around his bruised ribs and slowly swung his feet off the bed, sitting up fully. He had been sore before going to sleep and now every abused muscle had stiffened up.

Dean shook his head, “Doesn’t matter because neither one of us are going anywhere today for sure.” Eying him, he added, “It’s just after 9:00, though, so you still have a couple of hours before The Price is Right is on and I amaze you with my knowledge of what a La-Z-Boy recliner costs.”

Taking a deep breath and laughing slightly at the joke, he stood up and padded into the bathroom. “Not bad then, we got in around midnight and I think I went to bed around 2:30.” He grinned, “More sleep than a lot of nights.”

The other man snorted, “Not saying a lot, Sam.”

He laughed, closing the bathroom door.

“Don’t get in the shower!” Dean ordered loudly. “I want to see what how those cuts are doing before you do your make-up!” Laughing, he slowly stood up and poured another cup of coffee and set it at his brother’s place before sitting back down.

Slowly sitting at the table a minute later, Sam picked up the coffee mug and took a sip. “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Let’s take a look at the damage,” he said, getting up and grabbing the bag containing the bandages and antibacterial ointment. Putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, he said quietly, “I remember clearly telling you to just give me a few minutes to catch my breath last night and then I’d help you with these, Sammy.” Carefully unpeeling the tape holding the gaze squares in place, he tried not to wince in sympathy as they stuck to barely dried blood. “These are still bleeding a bit and that can’t be good, man.”

“You were exhausted, Dean,” Sam said quietly, trying not to wince or pull away. “I managed.”

Studying the cuts, he shook his head, “Barely …” He tugged his brother by the elbow, “Come into the bathroom with me, I want to clean these out again and maybe look at stiches before we put new bandages on them.” 

“How’s your back?” Sam asked, following him into the bathroom and allowing himself to be pushed down on to the closed toilet lid.

Dean nodded, “Hurts like hell if I move the wrong way but not much bleeding.” He grinned, “Your stiches look great, Martha Stewart would be proud.”

He laughed softly, hissing as the movement jarred his chest muscles and tugged at the cuts on his face.

“No laughing, no smiling, no talking,” Dean ordered, flipping on the water to heat it up.

“Ok, I’m calling it,” Dean said firmly just after 7:00 that evening. They had rested all day, watching TV, reading, and sleeping. He had gone out twice to get them food and additional bandages and tried not to worry as Sam became increasingly uncomfortable.

Sam shook his head, “No, let’s give it the night and see what happens. I think it’s getting better.”

He snorted, “No, it’s not, dude. I changed those bandages a couple of hours ago and I can see blood starting to come through already. When I tried to stich it this morning, you about passed out because it hurt so much, which isn’t normal.” He eyed his brother, “I’m calling it … we are over our heads and you need help. We are way beyond Neosporin, alcohol, and band-aids.”

“Fine,” he said faintly, laying back on his bed. His face throbbed with each beat of his heart and it felt hot.

Dean glanced over at him as he carefully stood up and picked up his phone. His brother’s quiet agreement spoke volumes as to how the younger man was really feeling. Scrolling through his contacts quickly, he pressed the call button a second later and took a deep breath as the other line began to ring. 

“Hello,” a woman said. Her voice was firm, quiet but competent.

“Doc, hey, it’s Dean Winchester,” he said, smiling. “Do you have a minute?”

Lowering the volume of her TV, Dr. Susan Gray smiled, “Dean Winchester! Good to hear from you and of course I have a minute. What can I help with?”

“Sam and I had a bad run in with a … well, that’s a long story but let’s just say something nasty with long, sharp claws. He took it full on the face and the cuts are still bleeding even though it’s been almost a day.”

She nodded to herself, use to vague and casual explanations of wounds and injuries that would send most sane people screaming into the nearest emergency room. “I’m assuming you’ve cleaned everything …”

“Yeah, several times now. We cleaned it, applied a couple of different antibiotic things, bandaged it. I tried to stich the wounds up this morning and he about passed out from the pain. Just touching it now is painful and his whole face is warm.”

“OK,” she said evenly. Standing up, she headed into her home office. “I’m pulling up my files now. How is Sam doing? I didn’t realize you two were hunting together, he must have graduated from college already.”

Glancing at his brother, Dean said, “Well, up until yesterday he was great. We started hunting together a few months ago and it’s going good.”

“Good, good,” she said absently as the computer woke up and she toggled to the correct file and put in the password. “Where are you?”

“Just outside of Davenport, Iowa but still in Illinois,” he said. “Basically, intersection of Interstates 74, 80, and 88.”

She nodded, clicking through the database and associated map. A minute later, she said, “I’ve got a doctor and a nurse practitioner, both within about an hour. Let me reach out to them and see who is available.” Pulling the phone away from her ear for a second, she glanced at the number. “Is this 903 number the best one for them to call?” Hunters, she knew, typically had multiple phones and the numbers didn’t always accept incoming calls.

“Yes, thank you,” he said. 

“Don’t worry, Dean,” she said evenly. “I’m sure a good antibiotic will clear up whatever the problem is and he’ll be fine in a few days. In the meantime, make sure he drinks plenty of fluids, take Tylenol to help with the discomfort, and keep the wounds covered.”

He laughed softly, “Will do, Doc. Thanks.”

“And one more thing,” she said before he hung up. “The same instructions for you, too. Plenty of water, not alcohol, good food, rest, and keep your own cuts covered.”

Smiling slightly, he nodded, “And how do you know that Sam wasn’t the only one who got it? I’m quicker than his is, you know.”

She laughed, “If he’s hurt, I’m sure you’ve got your share of cuts too. So … covered, clean, and take care of yourself. If you don’t hear from someone in the next 30 minutes, call me back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Thanks.”

Dean grabbed the ringing phone 15 minutes later, quickly pressing the answer button as he said, “Hello?”

“Hi,” another man said. “This is Colin, I’m a nurse practitioner. I understand that you’re a private patient of Susan Gray and need some help?”

“Hi, yes,” Dean confirmed. “My brother has some pretty serious cuts to his face and I think they’re getting infected and haven’t stopped bleeding since it happened yesterday. It’s not gushing blood or anything but …”

The other man chuckled, “Well, gushing or not, bleeding isn’t a good thing. Can you drive or should I come to you?”

“We can drive, no problem,” Dean said, glancing at his brother as the other man slowly sat up.

Gripping the bed beneath him, he took several shallow breaths and closed his eyes, swaying slightly.

The sight of the bandages made Dean frown as he added into the phone, “The sooner the better.”

Colin chuckled again, “Of course. Let me give you my address. It’s a house but the clinic is set up on the first floor and there are empty bedrooms upstairs that you’re welcome to use. I live in the other house on the property, so I’ll see you when you arrive. Ready for the address? I think Susan said you’re on the Illinois side of Davenport?”

“Pear Garden Farms,” Sam said dully 45 minutes later as they pulled through an open gate spanning a gravel driveway. He laughed, “Great, another orchard.”

Dean smiled, “No running off this time, Sammy.”

“Ha!” he said and then winced, hissing sharply. “Saved your butt by separating,” he finished a moment later. “Of course, I also hooked up with Meg … which got us here.”

He snorted, putting the car into park next to the house. The porch lights and bottom floor lights were on. “She would have gotten to us sooner or later.” 

Glancing at his brother, he smiled slightly, saying, “Later would have been better.”

Peeling off the bandages and adjusting the light shining on Sam’s face, Colin nodded slowly. “Yep, stiches for sure but I don’t think there’s much infection yet.” He stood up, patting the younger man’s shoulder, “Not a problem but I’m glad you came in. I’ve also got some ointment that should help with the healing and, fingers crossed, cut down on any scarring. When I was in the Navy, I was stationed in Peru and one of the local women was amazing with medical ointments and treatments. Put some of our stuff to shame, for sure.” 

Sam smiled slightly, “Good and thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

He smiled, glancing over from the counter where he was pulling out supplies. “I had a big problem here about six years ago and it almost cost me and my family our lives. Someone like you and your brother helped.” Shrugging, he added, “The least I can do is help when Susan calls.”

“Well, we appreciate it,” Sam said again, curious about the problem but not wanting to appear too nosey if the other man didn’t volunteer the information. He had learned long ago that most people didn’t get into this life through happy circumstances.

Dean quietly yawned from his seat in the corner of the exam room. 

Colin glanced over at him, “Feel free to have a seat in the waiting room and maybe catch a few winks. This will take about 30 minutes and then I want to check your own wounds. Susan said you didn’t fill her in on the details but you were hurt too.”

Sam chuckled lightly, “Busted, man.”

He smiled, “Let’s see how long it takes you to work on Sam. I’m good actually, better at ducking and weaving than he is.”

The nurse smiled, “OK, we’ll talk about it when I’m done here. At the very least, I’ll give you some antibiotics too and some stronger ointment than the over the counter stuff you’re probably using.” Glancing between them, he added, “You’re also welcome to stay the night, plenty of room upstairs.”

Dean shook his head, “No, but thanks. We’ve got a hotel room not too far from here.” They hadn’t checked out and he knew they would both sleep better in the privacy and security of their own hotel. Professional care was needed from time to time but he still craved the privacy of being able to heal and recover in peace, on their own schedule, and in their own way.

“Thanks, but yeah, we’re all set,” Sam echoed. 

He nodded, “Not a problem. I’ve got everything you need here and you should be back on the road within an hour or so.” Quietly and efficiently pulling his equipment together, he bowed his head for a moment and said a quick, soft prayer. “OK,” he said, resting his hand on Sam’s shoulder again, “just relax and you probably want to close your eyes. I’m going to numb the area so you don’t feel the stiches but most people don’t like to see this big needle.

He laughed softly, saying, “Yeah”. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, knowing that Dean was watching every move.

“Just a small sting,” Colin said quietly. “After the first one or two, let me know if you feel anything, OK?”

“Yeah,” Sam said again.

In the corner, Dean chuckled, “Good call on closing your eyes, man.”

Sam laughed, “Shut up.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” he said. Yawning again, he felt himself relax. The chair was comfortable, the guy seemed competent, the room was comfortably warm, and his brother was being taken care of … Sitting there, he decided he really couldn’t ask for more.

OOooOOooOO

Opening his eyes in the darkness of the room, he peered at the clock and saw that it was just past 5:00. They had gotten back from Colin’s just before midnight and immediately collapsed into their beds. His cuts throbbed as he tried to carefully reposition in bed, afraid of waking his brother. He could hear the other man sleeping deeply across the narrow space separating the two beds. Closing his eyes again, he tried hard not to think of what they would do when the thing that killed Mom was finally put down. Separate again? Stay together and keep building and rebuilding this bond of brotherhood they were slowly but surely doing? What did his life look like now, after everything that had happened and everything they had done together? What did he want it to look like? The answer use to be clear, the path was set, but now it was hazy and murky and no clear answers. Closing his eyes, he took a careful deep breath, trying to relax.

“You OK, man?” 

“Yeah, good, sorry to wake you,” he said quietly. “Just … woke up.” A moment later, he smiled slightly in the darkness as he heard his brother’s breathing deepen into the familiar asleep pattern he knew too well. Regardless of the future, they were together now, working jobs, and he found himself happy at the thought.

The End


	2. Chapter 2: Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from Bad Day at Black Rock ... before the wonderful 'working on the car together' scene that was the episode ending.

Bullet 3.03 Bad Day at Black Rock

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam laughed, saying, “Come on, man. Let it go … I wouldn’t trust that those tickets aren’t tainted in some way by the bad luck from the foot.”

Dean smiled, nodding, “Hey! Wouldn’t it be great if those tickets were deemed fraudulent or something? A bit of jail time or at least tough questions by cops would serve that bitch right. She shot you!”

He laughed again, “Yeah … I know and I’m cold and still bleeding, so let’s get out of here.”

Making a face, Dean nodded, grabbing the supplies from his brother. “You’re right … can’t have you passing out in the middle of the cemetery.” Bumping against him gently as they walked, he added, “I’d hate to have to drag your ass back to the car.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head before saying dryly, “I appreciate the concern.”

“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the chairs at the small table in the hotel room 20 minutes later. Eyeing his brother a moment, he said softly, “Let me just take care of a few things and we’ll get you patched up, Sammy.”

Gritting his teeth to prevent them from chattering, he simply nodded and sank into one of the chairs. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to stop shaking as his shoulder throbbed and his stomach churned uncomfortably as the adrenaline wore off and mild shock began to set in.

“You’re freezing, man,” Dean said quietly. Turning up the heat in the hotel room, he grabbed one of the blankets off the bed and brought it over. “Here, I know these things are gross but it’s better than nothing.”

Wordlessly taking it and awkwardly trying to help wrap it around his shoulders, he smiled as his brother batted away his hands. 

“Let me, Sam,” he said quietly. “It’s easier for both of us if you just sit there for a minute.” Wrapping the blanket around him and shoving the extra material under the chair to keep it out of the way, he nodded to himself. “Just another minute,” he said absently. Heading into the kitchen, he ran a mug of water, dropped in a tea bag from Sam’s supplies, and put the whole thing in the microwave to heat up and boil for 2 minutes.

“You’re supposed to bring the water to a boil and then put the tea bag in,” Sam said, giving his brother a small smile.

Dean chuckled, “Be happy I was able to find tea, otherwise it was just going to be hot water.” Glancing at his brother, he smiled, “With sugar.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You’re too kind.”

Opening their bag of medical supplies, he studied the contents before pulling out scissors and gauze. A moment later, the steeping mug now sitting in front of Sam, he said, “OK, let’s see what we’re dealing with and how badly she got you. Drink your tea or at least hold it, I’m cold just looking at you.” 

Glad the heat had finally started warming up the room, he slowly pulled off the blanket before Dean helped him off with his jacket. Hissing and wincing as he moved carefully, trying to get the jacket off. Taking several deep breaths once it was off, he said, “Just cut the shirt, it’s ruined anyway.”

Dean nodded, “Right and I don’t want you moving any more than you have to.” Eyeing the jacket with its scorched sleeve, blood stains and holes, he said, “So is this. We’ll keep an eye out for something new for you.” 

He laughed softly, “You know, that was like my favorite jacket. I got it from some church clothing store not too far from campus.”

“Really? God knows you wore it often enough,” he said, nodding. “You certainly got your … what? Maybe $5 worth out of it.”

Sam smiled, “If that.” Touching a neatly sewn rip near the elbow, he said, “That ghost with the hook, not long after we started hunting together.” 

“I remember,” Dean confirmed. Looking at the stitching, he said, “You did a good job and you were always better at that then me. I’m OK but you have more patience.” 

Staring at the jacket, he said quietly, “Not a lot left from that time now.” Running a finger over some of the repairs and very faint blood stains, he closed his eyes, trying to block out a rush of memories.

Touching his brother’s arm for a moment, he said, “I’m sorry it’s ruined but we’ll find you something new.” He smiled, ruffling his brother’s hair, “With an inside pocket that you can use for valuable things.”

Sam nodded, swallowing hard and forcing himself to drop his hand from the jacket as he buried a host of memories, and nodded. “Sounds good; I have a feeling we’ll see Bella sooner or later.”

Picking up the scissors, he carefully cut the two shirts, peeling back the material and exposing the wound. Ignoring the feeling of his brother shaking slightly under his hand, he studied the wound and saw a clean exit out the back. “Good,” he said softly. “I think we caught a break and it looks like it went clean through just the muscle.” Nudging him gently, he said, “Wrap that blanket around the other half of you at least, you’re freezing.” 

Sam laughed softly as he pulled the blanket up a bit on his other side, “A bit of good luck, you mean.” Cupping the warm mug with his free hand, he savored the warmth.

Dean smiled, laughing and nodding. “Exactly, man. Drink your tea while I wash my hands and then I’ll get started patching you up. It sucks but you need stiches on both sides, for sure.” 

Swallowing hard, he took several shaking breaths and laid his head on his folded arm on the table. “Ok, I’m good,” he said as he sat up a minute later. He had thrown up a few minutes earlier, luckily able to lurch sideways toward the trashcan Dean had thrust in his direction and still felt miserable. His shoulder was throbbing and his head ached. 

Dean eyed him for a second before nodding. “OK, but let me know if you need me to stop again. There’s no rush, we can go at your pace. We got the back done and that was the worst. I think the front will just need six or seven stiches.” Shifting in his chair, he eyed the entrance wound he had cleaned out earlier. Blood was still seeping out but at a much slower rate. Finding the center point, he gently pulled the skin together and placed the first stich. “Doing good, Sam,” he said softly. “One down, we’ve got this.”

“Been through worse,” he said softly. “I freaked Jessica out one time by stitching up a gash on my leg.”

Dean glanced up, surprised to hear the young woman’s name. “Really?” he asked cautiously. “What did you do to yourself?” Focusing back on the stiches as the silence lengthened, he silently wondered if his brother would answer him.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to jerk away, he finally said quietly. “We were on a weekend trip to Hope Valley, not too far from Lake Tahoe, but the less crowded part. I slipped and sliced my leg on some rocks.” He coughed lightly and hissed as his brother tied off another stich. “We made it back to our tent and I used floss and a sewing needle she had in some kit in her bag.” He laughed softly, “Just like Dad taught us.”

He chuckled, nodding, “Yep. Alcohol, super glue, floss, sewing kit … can solve a hell of a lot of problems.” Putting in another stich, he said, “Hey, remember when I broke two of my fingers in that gold mine?”

Sam smiled, feeling his stomach churn again as he tried to stop shaking and instead focus on his brother’s words. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You got it caught in some door a ghost slammed shut, right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he confirmed. Smiling as their eyes met, “I’m not sure who yelled louder, me or Dad.”

He laughed softly and then hissed as another stich went in. “Dad, for sure, man. He was pissed and complained about it for days.”

“Yep,” Dean said, tying off the fifth stich. “Last one or two, Sammy,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what he was so pissed about, it was my fingers. He just taped them up with like popsicle sticks and we kept hunting.” 

Sam shook his head, saying dryly, “Good times.” Not wanting to fight or bring up bad memories, he grinned as his brother chuckled again, adding, “At least we know enough to buy those emergency splits from the drug store.”

“Exactly and … we’re done,” he said, letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding. Grabbing some pads, he spread Neosporin on them and began to carefully tape them in place. “Just another minute and then to bed. You’re shaking …”

Sam shook his head, “I’m fine.”

“Dude, I can feel it in my hands,” he countered, standing up for a better angle. “Bed, more blankets, pain killers because this has to hurt.” 

“A bit,” he conceded before slowly standing up with Dean’s help. Stumbling to one of the beds, he sat down, shaking. “OK, yeah, Tylenol or something stronger would be good.” Closing his eyes, he took several shallow breaths again. 

“Drink,” Dean ordered a moment later, thrusting a bottle of water into his hand. “And don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Sam nodded; eyes still closed. A moment later, he felt his brother’s hand on his hand. 

“Here, take these, Sammy,” he said quietly. Waiting until his brother had taken the pills, he bent down and quickly untied the other man’s shoes, pulling them off gently. “Still with me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing the pills and a sip of water. 

Dean nodded, “OK, good. Let’s get you changed so you’re more comfortable. Plus, those jeans have blood on them and I want to soak them, at least. You pretty much destroyed the knees of that other pair. When we look for a new jacket, we’ll look for jeans too but they’re hard to find in sasquatch size.” Smiling, he laughed softly, “You went down hard.”

Sam groaned, “Thanks for reminding me, like I’m not in enough pain as it is. But it’s fine, man, I’ll do it in the morning. It’s OK.”

“No, it’s not,” he said simply. “Off, I got sweatpants out for you already. You’ll be warmer and more comfortable.”

Glancing up, Sam sighed, “Fine, man, whatever.” Standing up slowly, his brother holding his arm, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor. Trying to step out of them, he swayed, almost losing his balance.

“Whoa, got you …” Dean said quickly, holding on tight before lowering him back on the bed. “Just sit and let me do it.” He grinned, laughing, “I use to do this all the time, Sam. I’m a pro at it.” Pulling the jeans free, he slipped the sweatpants onto his brother’s legs before helping him stand back up and pulling them all the way on. “See, no fuss, no muss, and no one fell flat on their face.”

Sam laughed, “Fine.” Laying carefully down, he couldn’t help but sigh as he relaxed against the surprisingly comfortable mattress. “Yeah …” he said quietly. 

Pulling the blankets up over him, Dean smiled, “Yeah is right. Just go to sleep, I got it from here.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, eyes already closed.

Scooping up the jeans a moment later, he carried them into the small bathroom and bumped the door mostly closed behind him. Between the stress and the pain pills, he didn’t think the light or the sound of running water would actually bother his brother but he didn’t want to take any chances. Turning the cold water on, he began to clean the blood off his brother’s jeans and tried hard not to think about what could have happened if Bella hadn’t been quite as good of a shot as she thought she was. His mind immediately filled in the gap with the vision of Sam laying dead on a table in some abandoned room in Cold Oak. He felt himself go cold with the still too fresh, too recent memory. Viciously pushing it away, he focused on washing the blood out as thoroughly as he had washed the brown jacket stained with blood two months earlier. 

OOooOOooOO

“How do I do this without you?”

Jerking awake at the sound of his brother’s voice, Dean blinked in the darkness, quickly sitting up several hours later. “What’s wrong, Sam?” He stumbled out of bed, taking one step before half sitting, half falling onto his brother’s bed as he tried to flip on the light but missed. The light through blinds that didn’t quite close tightly illuminated the room enough to see his brother laying awake on his uninjured side. “More pills?” he asked.

Sam swallowed hard, shaking his head before whispering again, “How do I do this without you, Dean?”

“Hey, let’s not think about that now,” he said softly, reaching out and touching his brother’s arm. “I’m not going anywhere and we’ve got more important things to deal with … namely that hole in your shoulder and what we’re going to do while you’re on the mend.”

“It’s all I can think about,” he said, looking at his brother.

He nodded, “Yeah, I know, man but I’m not thinking about it so you shouldn’t either.”

Sam huffed, “It doesn’t work that way, Dean.”

“Well, try this on for size then, if you want to mull over something … I thought you were an uncle for a few hours, back with Lisa and Ben in Indiana.”

“Huh?” he said, blinking slightly. “Wait … Ben?”

Dean chuckled, patting his brother’s arm again, “Relax, Lisa said no and the more I thought about it, the timing is off by a few months but …” He shook his head, standing up, “Mull that one over in that big brain of yours for a while. I’m going to get you some more pills and then we’re both going back to sleep.”

Slowly sitting up, Sam stared at his brother’s back for a long moment, unsure what to say. What do you say when you find out a dream you didn’t even know you had, was no longer reality?

“I’m going to put out some feeler tomorrow and find us some place to lay low while you heal up,” Dean said from the kitchen area, getting a bottle of water. “I want you to take it easy, we deserve a bit of a vacation.”

He nodded, “Yeah, sure. I’m going to be useless for a couple of weeks, at least.”

Dean laughed, “Don’t worry about it. I’m use to carrying you at this point.”

“Ha ha,” he said, shaking his head. “Jerk.”

He grinned, coming over and sitting down on the bed next to him and passing over two pills. “Bitch.”

The End


	3. Chapter 3: Bites & Barbed Wire

Bites & Barbed wire 3.07 Fresh Blood

“Fuck,” Sam hissed, digging through one of their bags in the trunk and grabbing bandages. “Dean …”

“Relax Sammy, it’s not that bad,” Dean said quietly. Closing his eyes, he swayed slightly before leaning against the car.

Grabbing his brother by the elbow, he opened the front passenger door and pushed his brother inside. “Sit down and shut up. He got your neck, we’re lucky he just got the external jugular but we need to stop the bleeding. Plus, you lost a decent amount of blood, so sit down, shut up and let me do this.”

He laughed softly, “Sammy, you know how much I love it …”

“Shut up!” Sam barked again. Shaking his head, he said, “I’m sick of it, Dean.” Pressing pads to the jagged wounds, he took a deep breath before saying, “Hold these for me, please, while I get some tape.”

“Sure,” he said softly. Reaching up, he touched his brother’s hand for a moment, “I got it and won’t let go, promise.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, nodding. Ripping off tape, he quickly secured the pads. “OK, just hold still and maybe keep your hand up there, applying pressure.”

Nodding slightly, Dean eyed his brother’s hands, “You need help, too and we need to get those hands cleaned. God only knows what was on that barded wire.” Smiling slightly, trying to ease the tension, he added, “And watch the blood on the seats …”

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes. “Glad to see you’ve got your priorities straight, man. You’re almost bleeding out, I’m bleeding, we’re feet away from two dead bodies and you’re concerned about the leather.” Quickly wrapping his hands with gauze, he ripped off tape with his teeth and secured each hand. “Good enough,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Slowly pulling his feet into the car, Dean nodded as his brother shut the door a moment later. He glanced over as Sam slid into the driver’s seat and smiled. “Take a breath, Sam. I’m not bleeding out, we’re OK.”

He nodded once, closing his eyes briefly and taking a breath.

“Dr. Gray, it’s Sam Winchester. Dean and I need your help, please,” he said quietly into the phone 30 minutes later.

“Of course, Sam,” she said firmly, standing up. Grabbing her robe, she slipped it on as she said, “Tell me what’s going on.” Walking into her home office, she toggled on the computer and reached for a pen to take notes as the computer woke up.

Glancing at Dean laying on one of the beds, eyes closed, he gathered his thoughts for a moment before saying, “We tangled with a vampire nest and one took several bites out of Dean’s neck.”

She felt her blood freeze for a second at the idea before forcing herself to push that away and enter the computer password. “OK,” she said simply. “Is he actively bleeding now?”

“No,” he said. “It looks like it just got mostly the exterior jugular but there was a lot of blood.” Glancing at Dean again, he said, “He’s pale but was talking, moving OK. I’ve got pads and gauze on the bites now and he’s laying down. I see a bit of blood starting to come through but it’s not … gushing or anything.”

Putting in the password for her medical files, she said, “Good, perfect, Sam. I’m sure there was a lot but it’s good that it’s slowed down. Do you think he’s in immediate danger from the blood lose? If so, you need to call 911 and we’ll deal with the hospital fall out …”

Sam shook his head, “No, I think it’s OK right now but I need help. Plus, my hands are all ripped up and I don’t want to trust my own stitching skills with a neck wound like this.”

“No,” she said firmly, pushing aside questions about his hands but making a note. “Definitely not. Where are you?”

“Albany … New York,” he said.

Smiling for the first time in the last 10 minutes, she chuckled slightly, “Someone upstairs likes you boys. You managed to get hurt in a great location. There’s a college there that’s run by a nursing and teaching Order that’s very supportive. I’m going to reach out to them and someone will be in touch with you soon. If you don’t hear something within 30 minutes, call me back. Is this the best number to reach you at?”

He nodded, “Yeah, OK, thank you.”

“And Sam?” she said, smiling again. “They’re nuns, so I expect you boys to both be on your best behavior.”

Sam laughed, “Yes, ma’am. Thanks.”

He jumped slightly as the phone in his hand rang 15 minutes later. “Hello?” he asked cautiously.

“Sam Winchester?” a female voice said.

“Yes,” he said, nodding and glancing at Dean to see if the phone had woken his brother up.

“This is Sister Elizabeth and I’m a good friend of Susan Gray. I understand that you and your brother need some help,” the woman said.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment before saying, “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course,” she said. “Where are you? Susan said you’ve hurt your hands. We’re happy to come pick you up.”

Knowing Dean’s reaction to such an offer and their father’s rules, he shook his head. “Oh, it’s fine, they’re not that bad. I’ve got them bandaged up and it would be easier for us to come to you if you just give me the address.”

She paused for a moment before saying, “Of course. We’re near Albany Medical, just off Interstate 87. It’s a large house and there’s a small cottage in the back, next to a small chapel. When you turn into the driveway, the cottage will be just in front of you and we’ll have the lights on.”

Jotting down the address a moment later, he said, “Thank you so much, Sister. We should be there in about 30 minutes.” Clicking the phone off a moment later, he shoved it into his pocket and walked over to the bed. “Dean, wake up,” he said softly, touching his brother’s arm. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he said blinking awake slowly. Struggling to sit up, he grasped his neck, wincing. “What’s wrong, Sammy?”

He shook his head, “Nothing but I’ve spoken with Dr. Gray and got someone in town to help stich you up, and see what’s going on with my hands.” Smiling slightly, he said, “We don’t want me near your neck with a needle right now.”

Dean laughed softly, “No. You do great work but right now, I’d say you’re a bit handicapped.” 

“Come on, we’re heading over to see them. I’ve got the address jotted down and it’s not that far,” he said, reaching down and helping his brother stand up. “Careful,” he whispered. 

“Them?” he asked, shrugging off his brother’s hand as they made their way out the door and toward the car.

Sam smiled slightly, “I spoke to a Sister Elizabeth. Dr. Gray said there’s a college around here and a seminary that’s run by an Order of healing and teaching nuns.”

Dean stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Seriously Sammy? Nuns? Black robes, habits, rulers, crosses?” Sliding into the car, he laughed as his brother went around to the driver’s side and sat down. “Nuns?”

“I don’t think they look like that anymore,” he countered. Glancing at him, he said, “And let’s remember they’re friends of Dr. Gray, who we like and who we want to keep on our good side.”

He laughed again, nodding, “Not into virgins anyway.”

“Dean! Jesus,” he said, shaking his head.

Laughing, he grinned, “That’s right, man, Jesus is watching and they are his brides so …”

Sam rolled his eyes again before carefully backing out of the parking space.

“But maybe if one if hot,” he said grinning slightly. “One last temptation before the final vows …”

Ignoring him, Sam just shook his head.

“Come in, come in,” a middle age woman said, smiling slightly and holding out her hand to grasp Dean’s elbow. “I’m Sister Elizabeth, we spoke on the phone. I teach Nursing over at the college and Sister Barbara is a PA and works in our clinics.”

“Thank you, I’m Sam and my brother Dean,” Sam said, following his brother into the small white cottage tucked behind a larger brick home. Looking around, he smiled at the other woman standing near-by, “We appreciate your help.”

“Of course,” Sister Barbara said, stepping forward. “You and your brother are doing God’s work against evil and we consider it an honor to help you in your fight.” Motioning toward a back room, she said, “Let’s look at your hands, Sam. We can sit here while Elizabeth looks at your brother’s neck in our treatment room.”

Dean smiled at them before saying, “Thank you Sisters.” 

Knowing he was being silly but also unable to go against years of training, he stopped short. “Actually, I’d feel better if you take care of Dean’s neck first. After that, you can look at my hands. They’re really not bad.”

Elizabeth smiled, “Of course, whatever you prefer and whatever makes you the most comfortable.” Motioning toward the back room, she said, “Just follow me.”

Sitting down on the exam table after removing his coat and two outer shirts, Dean shivered slightly and closing his eyes for a moment against a rush of sudden nausea. 

“You OK?” Sam asked softly from his position at the head of the table.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding and swaying slightly.

“Dean, do me a favor and lay back,” Barbara said firmly, touching his shoulder. “I want to start an IV and look at replacing some of the fluids you lost.” She smiled as he cautiously laid back. “Good, thank you.” Turning her attention to Sam, she said, “Sister Elizabeth is going to bring you a stool. Can we get you something to drink? Water or tea, maybe? You look done for, as well.” 

He smiled, “Thank you but only if it’s not too much trouble. Water please, tap water is fine.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, bringing a stool in from the front room before leaving again for the water.

Pulling out IV fluids, Barbara quickly put on gloves and inserted the IV. “Just relax for me, Dean. Nothing in here but fluids, I promise. You may want to shut your eyes though; we’re going to turn on a bright light and look at your neck.

He nodded, closing his eyes and relaxing slightly. Sighing a moment later as he felt a heated blanket being settled on top of him. He heard Sam say something quietly just behind him and took a deep breath, relaxing into the heat of the warmed blanket, knowing his brother was standing watch.

“Good, good,” Elizabeth said softly, flipping on the light for the other woman. “Just relax for us.” 

Peeling off the gauze, Barbara studied the wound for a long moment, gently turning his head slightly to get a better look. “I’d say three or four good bites, for sure,” she said quietly, glancing at Elizabeth. “What are you thinking? Internal stiches and maybe steri-strips for the outside?”

Studying the wounds, Elizabeth nodded. “I think so.” Touching the skin with a gloved finger, she smoothed one of the ragged holes before saying, “These are pretty rough and torn. I think actually trying to stich it would be different and I’m not sure how well it would hold.”

Barbara nodded, “Exactly.” She patted Dean’s shoulder, before saying in a firm voice, “Not too bad. We’re going to put in some internal stiches that will dissolve on their own in a couple of weeks and then use basically … tape, if you will, on the outside.”

He nodded, “OK.” Smiling, he added, “Sam and I’ve used superglue and tape too before.”

Elizabeth laughed, “It works great for that. I had an instructor who was a nurse in Vietnam and she talked about what a lifesaver that was for many men.” Reaching for the irrigation bottle, she said, “This might be a bit uncomfortable but we need to clean the wound. We’ll be as gentle as possible but if you need us to stop at any time, just tell us and we’ll be happy to stop.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes closed.

Patting his shoulder, Barbara positioned some towels around his neck before glancing at Sam. “Is there a chance that what bit your brother had rabies or was sick with some type of infection?”

He noticed that she deliberately didn’t ask what caused the wounds, only for the medical details. Shaking his head, he said, “No, no chance. It was human, if that helps.”

She nodded, “Thank you, yes.”

Moving the stool back slightly and leaning against the wall in the exam room, Sam tried to block out the throbbing in his hands and focus on the two women and his brother.

Folding his now cleaned and neatly bandaged hands together two hours later, Sam bowed his head in the small chapel located next to the cottage where Dean lay, still asleep. Trying to still his mind, block out the overwhelming mix of emotions swirling through him … frustration at his brother’s attitude, fear at being left alone, anger at Dean for making such a deal in the first place, feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness and failure to deserve a second chance … he found himself unable to form any thought beyond a whispered plea of “Help me help him.” Taking a deep breath, pushing everything aside, he focused his thoughts on the last two years and their rebuilding of their relationship as peers, friends, brothers, and not the previous years of tension and simmering resentment. In an almost silent whisper, he said, “Help me make him understand how worthy he is, how much I need him, how much the world needs him. We only have months left, I need my brother, not a clown, not this Id personality running around focused only on pleasure and danger. And he needs me, too. He needs to help me, he needs to be the big brother, showing and teaching and ensure that things are OK when he’s gone. That’s what truly gives him pleasure, not the girls, not the food, not the blood but knowing that things are OK and settled. Please help him understand that it’s OK to be scared and sad and to find pleasure in the simple things like beers in the sun and working on the car or hanging out, together, as brothers. He needs that as much as I need that.”

Lifting his head, he stared at the small stained glass cross at the front of the small chapel and felt tears begin to fill his eyes at the idea of the road in front of them and then, the road alone in less than a year. “Please, please help us,” he whispered. “I can’t do this alone and he doesn’t deserve to go to Hell after everything he’s done and sacrificed. That has to count for something. Please help him, please help me.” Glancing behind him, quickly brushing away a stray tear, at the sound of the chapel door opening, he smiled as he saw Sister Elizabeth at the door. “Everything OK?” he asked, standing up quickly.

She nodded, “It’s fine, Sam. Dean’s awake but stay as long as you want, as long as you need to.” She smiled, adding, “I would imagine it’s nice to have some place quiet to gather your thoughts and find some comfort in this scary world.”

Standing up, he coughed lightly as he nodded, “Yes, it is but we should get going. You’ve been wonderful and we don’t want to take up more of your time.”

Elizabeth smiled, “Trust in God’s plan, Sam. We often cannot see it, cannot understand it, but know that even in our darkest hours, He has a greater plan at work and we are often simply a small cog in a great wheel.”

He smiled, “Thank you. I’ll try to remember that and we really appreciate your help.” Walking back into the cottage, he smiled at his brother, who was slowly getting redressed. Reaching out, he helped him with one of the shirts, saying, “Careful man … you’re being held together with tape in some places.”

Barbara laughed softly, “Yes, be careful but those strips aren’t just tape.” Holding out a bag of supplies, she said, “We’ve packed some good antibiotics for you both, more gauze, more waterproof pads and steri-strips.”

Taking the bag from her, Sam smiled, “Thank you again so much.”

“Thank you,” Dean echoed, smiling at them.

Leading them back through the small cottage, Elizabeth smiled at them again, “Go with God and know that He is always watching you, helping you, and keeping you safe.”

Sam nodded again, “Thank you.”

Glancing over at his brother in the passenger seat as they slowly made their way back to the hotel in the early dawn, he asked quietly, “How are you feeling?”

Dean laughed softly, “Like Fido’s newly repaired chew toy.” Nodding toward his brother’s hands, he asked, “What about you?” He grinned, adding, “That was pretty bad ass, dude … not smart but bad ass for sure.” 

He grinned, taking a deep breath and pushing away the remnants of the somber mood in the chapel. “I’m good, actually. We’re OK, you’re not dying, I’m not dying. We’re going to lay low for a few days and heal up and get to work again next week.” 

“Let’s do something fun, man,” Dean said. “We deserve it and not just rush to the next job right away. Not sure what but something … Thanksgiving, football, we’ve got time.”

Sam nodded, smiling and pushing away the thoughts of too little time, “Yeah, let’s do that. We’ll figure it out over the next couple of days.

“Good,” he said, settling back in the seat, nodding.

Sam laughed softly, “And at least we don’t have to worry about Gordon anymore.”

Dean laughed, “Yep, there is that.” He gingerly shook his head, “What a psycho.”

He nodded, “Yeah.” Glancing at his brother again, he said quietly after a long moment, “Thanks for staying with me instead of going after him.”

“Of course,” he said quietly. He swallowed, glancing over and giving him a quiet smile. “I heard you, I get it, Sammy. I get it.”

Sam nodded again, “Thank you.”

“Pie for Thanksgiving,” Dean said, smiling. “We’re getting good pie for Thanksgiving.”

Sam laughed, pulling into the motel parking lot. “Sounds good, man.”

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed these missing scenes.


End file.
